


en bloc

by Toki_Blade



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Blood, Dead People, Memory Loss, Murder, black outs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-16
Updated: 2014-08-01
Packaged: 2018-01-19 15:26:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1474765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toki_Blade/pseuds/Toki_Blade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's getting bad.</p><p>The bodies keep showing up and then disappearing and he can never remember what he's done with them (or how they showed up in the first place) and he's waking up on the street barefoot and caked in dirt and blood.</p><p>His grades are dropping like flies and he's already received his third warning about paying his rent.</p><p>Also Dave sort of thinks he's a murderer, but then again, he's starting to think that too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be fun, this isn't fun at all.  
> I mean, it's fun to write and all. But it's going in a bad direction and I can't stop it. I'm really actually concerned because I don't actually know what's happening.
> 
> I don't have very much of this written but I really like it sooooo yeah.

Karkat’s eyes fluttered. It’s dark. He’s tired and groggy and not quite sure where he is the given moment. He sits up and his body groans in protest. His eyes are threatening to close again but fuck that noise he should probably hurry and get out of wherever ‘here’ was.

He brings a hand up to his face to rub at his eyes but freezes when his finger’s touch his cheek.

They’re wet.

His blood runs cold.

_no no no no nonononono_

_this can’t be happening_

He blinks through the darkness as though the world will suddenly clear and he will be able to see his hand. (he really doesn’t want to be able to see his hand)

The world stays dark but he can sort of make out some darker shapes in the room (including his legs and hands) he rubs the fingers of his hand together. It’s sticky and cool and, when he brings it up to sniff at it, smells of rust.

His stomach clenches up and flops over on itself.  

He’s going to be sick.

His hands fly up to clutch at his mouth and he regrets it almost instantly. His face is now smeared with the drying liquid and even when he quickly moves his hands away his nose is assaulted with the smell even more than it was before.

Fuck fuck fuck.

He can’t do this.

This can’t be happening again.

He takes a deep breath and gags. The air is stagnant and heavy. He coughs.

Okay, calm down.

Just calm the fuck down.

Karkat gets to his knees (that shake slightly with the strain) and feels around himself. He freezes again when he feels a cool liquid at his fingertips somewhere to his left.

He moves away from the pool.

It’s- it’s cold. That means it’s been a while. It was warm last time (what does that _mean_ fuck) but it wasn’t this time. It’s- does that mean he’d been here for a while? How long had he been out?

Shit, was anybody looking for him? Had they even noticed he was gone?

When he feels a wall against his back he stands up on shaky legs. He’s light headed and his mouth is watering like he’s going to puke and his throat feels like it’s coated in-

in-

Fuck.

He feels along the wall with his arm, careful not to actually touch anything with his hands. He feels a bump and presses against it. Fuck. He angles his arm just below it and tries to press upwards from his awkward angle.

The light flicks on.

A dim, buzzing one that rests in the center of the ceiling.

Karkat winces away on first impact and blinks against the stares and blotches in his vision.

When he can actually see again (though the light still glows an ungodly amount and makes his eyes water) he glances to where he assumes he was laying previously.

His hands clench for something to grab but he sinks to the ground anyway.

-fuck.

He can’t do this.

Not again.

He kept thinking that it’d get easier (that it wouldn’t happen again) but he’s pretty sure that it just gets worse each time. He’s not sleeping (because when he does he dreams like he remembers and he can’t stand waking up anymore because waking up scares him because he never knows where it might be) he’s not eating (because he couldn’t keep it down anyway and he can’t even look at meat anymore) he’s not doing anything.

Not talking to his friends (because what if it happens to them next he couldn’t handle that) calling in sick to work (from which he will probably be fired soon if he doesn’t go in again soon) he doesn’t even remember the last time he attended classes, so he’s probably failing.

His throat clenches up and he has to bite at his lips to keep bile and noises at bay.

It’s a woman.

She doesn’t look much older than twenty; probably a college student.

Fuck, a college student.

The other’s had all been so much older. In their late thirties or even older.

Somehow the younger they were the worse it was (even though the older ones probably had kids and families and jobs and people they had to provide for) it was like they hadn’t even gotten to live their lives yet.

The girl was laying in a pool of (what Karkat assumed to be) her own blood. It was soaked into her hair and clothes. The worse of the discoloring to her was around her torso, which seemed to be the source of the liquid.

Fuck, that was a lot of blood.

How long was that going to take to clean up?

He makes his way in a wide circle around the body and tries not to think.

Not about where he is or how he got here or why he’s here or who she is or what he’s doing.

He can’t afford to.

If he does he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to function anymore. He’s already running on the bare minimum, and he can’t risk thinking about those things.

If he does he’ll probably lose his mind.

Instead he wonders where the bathroom is and if there’s any hydrogen peroxide in the house (apartment?) because without it getting the blood up will be a pain in the ass.

He wonders if there are any large (black) garbage bags around, and weather he should take the body out in one piece or if multiple would be better.

He takes away the gender and face and the who and the how and the why.

He takes it all away and focuses on cleaning.

If he thinks about the body being a person or even a woman he’ll just get sick.

He can’t afford to get sick here. He can’t afford to make mistakes.

He’ll worry about it later.

The kitchen (where he woke up) is a mess. Pots and pans and broken glass litter the floor, he’s lucky that he didn’t get any imbedded in his hands. The floor isn’t carpeted and he thanks whatever luck he has left for it.

About three times ago it was on carpet and he couldn’t even get it all up. Carpet cleaner is a bitch and he’d just had to leave it there because he couldn’t risk hanging out in a murder scene for three or more hours.

He had to be quick and thorough.

He had to get rid of the body and then get the hell out of there as fast as humanly possible.

After the first one he’d had to look up how do get blood off of hands. (because he’d been covered in the stuff) His clothes had been a lost cause (as was with pretty much every consecutive time) and would be again if he didn’t wash them soon.

He found a bottle of peroxide in the hall closet and used some of it to clean his hands in the bathroom. He found a pair of latex gloves under the kitchen sink and got to work.

He used a few towels to soak up what he could before sweeping up the glass, picking up everything else on the floor, and scrubbing at the stain.

If he didn’t think about it he was fine. He dozed, slipping in and out of aware consciousness, worked in a daze. At one point he realized that he must have moved the body because he’d gotten the entire floor clean and it was gone.

When he’d gone to look for it (hoping maybe he’d been hallucinating and there hadn’t even been one in the first place) he found five black garbage bags by the door; all tied off and waiting for him.

When he’d wiped down every surface and found another bag for the towels and broken glass and anything else that had to go, he lugged it to the door and stared at the bags.

A fleeting frantic thought screamed at him, asking how the body was in pieces now and why couldn’t he remember doing that.

He ignored it and made to pick up the bags.

The bags must have grossed him out more than he’d originally thought because he couldn’t actually remember the trip down the stairs (didn’t actually remember any stairs) but he was at the bottom of a tall apartment building and was slightly out of breath.

His car was parked across the street.

Karkat’s blood ran cold.

Why was his car here?

Why was _he_ here?

Fuck.

He takes a deep breath and holds it until his blood pounds in his ears. He just had to get out of here.

He remembers getting home.

He doesn’t remember getting the bags to his car or what he did with them but he’s putting his keys in the keyhole and hoping no one sees him getting back to his apartment this late.

Thanks luck that he doesn’t have a roommate (though he really needs one because keeping up with rent, especially recently, has become excruciatingly difficult) who will wake up and ask him where he’s been.

He doesn’t go to check on his car because he knows it’s void of evidence and the body will be gone already.

His phone is sitting on the coffee table.

It blinks.

He swears.

Three missed calls, one voice mail, and six text messages.

The calls are all from Gamzee, who’s left a message long enough to be cut off about how Karkat is his best friend and how he loves him so motherfucking much and-

he’s high.

Karkat breaths a sigh of relief. He only ever calls when he’s high.

(Only actually acknowledges Karkat’s existence when he’s under the influence.)

There’s a text from Kanaya asking him if he’s feeling any better and that she will be more than glad to pick up any assignments and notes for him if he so wishes.

God he loves that woman.

There’s two from Sollux cussing him out for skipping work because apparently he'd had to take up the extra shifts at work and how he’s covering for him but won’t do so much longer unless Karkat get’s his shit together or actually asks for help because, dammit, they’re _friends_ but if Karkat doesn’t fucking _talk_ to him he can’t do anything. It ends on an off note saying that he really doesn’t mind covering and that he’ll talk to Karkat later.

He tells himself that he’s going to text Sollux _right the fuck now_ because he’s being such a shitty friend and the least he can do is come up with some terrible excuse. Then he realizes that it’s three thirty eight in the morning and Sollux is probably asleep.

Probably.

He deigns to text him in the morning.

Two are from John asking why he wasn’t in class and then asking if he wants him to take extra notes for him.

As much as a dumbshit as John Egbert is, he’s a pretty great friend.

Karkat feels worse.

It must have been his morning class and John either figured he was ‘sick’ (again) or slept in. He’ll have to choose one of the two and tell him that his phone had died or something and he forgot to charge it.

Another note to text John tomorrow as well.

Or, well. Later today to be exact.

The last one is from Dave (which is weird because he and Dave don’t really talk) and is some sort of provoking rap that Karkat doesn’t think deserves an answer.

Fuck he’s tired.

How long had he even been gone?

He vaguely remembers eating cold noodles for breakfast but doesn’t quite remember much after that. Apparently he didn’t make it to his morning classes which he had actually been planning to attend.

A whole day.

He’d been out for an entire day.

He didn’t make it to work and didn’t even make it to calling in sick.

He felt nauseous.

Where had his day gone?

What had he done?

 _You murdered someone_ , his mind supplied. _That’s what you did_.

Fuck.

He could have gone to school with her.

She could have been an upper classman. He could have met her at some point. (except he hadn't) She could be an acquaintance of someone he knew.

He was in the bathroom retching up what little content he had in his stomach before he quite realized what was happening.

He rested his head upon the coolness of the toilet seat, taking shallow breaths.

He had to calm down. He couldn’t keep this up. If he kept at it he would probably end up killing himself.

_but wouldn’t that be better?_

Karkat took a deep breath- and then another one.

He had to get some sleep.

He really didn’t want to but he was running himself ragged as it was.

He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. He should move to the bedroom, or at least the living room where he could crash on the couch or something.

Another few breaths and he was already dosing. He never even made it out of the bathroom.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wish I knew what was happening.

When Karkat opens his eyes there is a fleeting note of fear. Of _wherehowwhy_ because he’s not in his bedroom or even in the living room and he tries desperately to remember what the last thing he did was.

Bathroom.

He puked.

Then fell asleep.

He lets out a breath of air that he wasn’t aware of holding. He’s still in the bathroom. He’s leaning awkwardly against the wall and his neck has a terrible kink in it but he’s  _still in the bathroom_.

His body is stiff and sore like he over exerted himself yesterday and then decided to sleep on the floor.

He grunts but stands, leaning against the sink for support. A glance at the toilet has him grimacing and he flushes it and closes the lid. A glance in the mirror, even in the dim of the room, and his expression isn’t much better. He should really take a shower. He also didn’t wash his clothes last night which draws more curses from his mouth.

He liked this shirt.

He inches his way to his room to find a pair of spare clothes. He should really buy some more. Kanaya would have a fit if she saw his room with everything strewn about in such disarray.

He hasn’t done laundry in about three weeks and should really get on that.

Karkat finds a decent shirt on the ground and a pair of jeans that are probably fine before heading back to the bathroom and starting up the shower.

The water stings as it hits his body. He pokes and prods at his skin. There are a few bruises that he doesn’t remember getting but no open wounds and mostly he’s just tense. The hot water helps. He probably stays in there longer then he should (but dammit it feels good) because he’s been trying to keep utility expenses at a low, but can’t find that he really cares at the moment.

He redresses in a slow manner, flinching whenever he bends too much.

His stomach growls at him and he makes his way to the kitchen.

His phone is blinking again.

It’s Egbert asking if he’s going to be in class today. He glances at the time and figures if he left now he’d only be a few minutes late. His stomach protests and he glances at the fridge. He’d probably throw up anything he tried to eat anyways.

Karkat sighs but pulls on his shoes, sending John a ‘yeah’ before heading out.

His car grumbles to a start and he should really refill up on gas soon but for that he’d need money and for that he’d need to go to work.

Fuck, he should really go to work today.

He had to work yesterday but can’t quite remember if he was scheduled to work today or not. He can probably ask Sollux-

Fuck.

Sollux.

He was going to text him.

He’ll do it on the way to class. Say he’s sorry and ask if he’s working today.

Ask if they’re even still friends.

Karkat rubs at his eyes (and no he’s not crying that’d be stupid).

As he parks and runs to class (his body aching and yelling at him saying that this is too much this early) he does just that.

He makes sure his phone is on silent before he enters the classroom because Sollux will probably (or not depending on how mad he is) text him back and he doesn’t want it to go off in class.

The teacher is still setting up her PowerPoint and raises an eyebrow at him. “Why Vantas. So nice of you to join us for once.” He nods and apologizes for being late before absconding to his seat next to John who grins at him. The rest of the class stares at him boredly for a few seconds before going back to staring at the front of the room blankly.

“Hey,” Calls John, whisper-shouting even though everyone can hear him and even though the teacher hasn’t even started class up yet. “Where have you been.”

“Sick,” Karkat mumbles back, partly to humor him, and partly because he actually doesn’t want people listening in on his conversations. “Sorry.”

John flaps his hand, “Don’t apologize for being sick!” He then makes an odd motions with his hands, bringing them together and moving his thumbs up and down. “I texted you.”

Oh, fuck. Right.

“Phone died.” He says, “forgot to recharge it. Sorry.”

John furrows his eyebrows, “Dude, why are you apologizing so much, it’s fine.” Karkat chews on the inside of his cheeks. Fuck, was he acting weird? John’s eyes light up. “Oh! Right! I took notes for you.” He starts ruffling around in his bag and Karkat uses the times to take a few deep breaths.

He had to calm down.

“Thanks,” he said as he took the pile of notes from John.

There were a lot of them.

Fuck he was a terrible person.

John just smiled and whisper-shouted “sure” and flashed him a smile.

He felt like shit.

The entire lesson was basically a practice in the art of not falling asleep during class.

By the end he hardly had half a page of notes and he felt more out of it than he had this morning.

He tries to take a ridiculously long time packing up his things (which proves to be quite the challenge as he has out exactly one notebook and pencil,) but John doesn’t get the hint and waits for him.

Stupid loyal friend.

As they’re walking out of class a voice that Karkat begrudgingly recognizes as Dave’s starts to speak up.

“Yo, what took you so long Egderp, it’s like-” He’s leaning against the wall next to the door and sort of cuts off abruptly when he sees Karkat with John.

John smiles at his friend, “Hey, Dave. Look who came to class today!”

Dave just sort of stands there, looking at him. (Well, he  _assumes_ Dave is looking at him. The douche is wearing sunglasses so it’s a little hard to tell.) But then he smirks and Karkat can feel the dread rolling in like fog.

“Well, well, well.” He says, and Karkat kind of wants to punch him in his stupid douchy face, “Look what the cat dragged in. Haven’t seen you in what, ‘bout a month? Been too long shorty.”

Karkat ground his teeth and squinted his eyes up at the blond. “Not long enough.” He muttered.

Dave either didn’t hear him or chose to ignore him. “I sent you a text.” It’s a statement, but the ‘you didn’t answer’ hangs in the air.

John butts in then, rolling his eyes and pushing Karkat by the shoulder a little (he almost falls over because he’s so out of it, Dave gives him a weird look) “Karkat forgot to charge his phone again. Loser.” He laughs.

Karkat bites at the inside of his cheek. “Yeah, I should really remember to do that.”

Dave gives him another look but then decides that he either just doesn’t care, or he’s being gracious for once and giving Karkat an out.

He turns to John, “Welp, you ready to mosey?”

John nods enthusiastically and turns to Karkat with wide, excited eyes. “Dave and I are gonna go try out that new coffee place. Wanna come?”

Karkat can practically  _feel_ Dave internally groaning.

Whatever, he’s not really into the whole ‘human interaction’ thing right now.

He shakes his head, gripping the straps of his backpack like lifelines. “Nah, I need to go check out work, see if I still have a job and all that shit.”

John’s mouth twists down and to the side, he looks honestly let down (Dave looks rather relieved) “Oh. Well, ‘kay I guess. I’ll see you later, though?”

Karkat shrugs, “Sure.” It’s a noncommittal answer but he’s fine with that. He can’t really promise anything anyways.

John’s back to smiling again, “Cool! See you later buddy!” He actually fucking  _waves_ as they retreat presumably to Strider’s car.

Karkat lifts up his hand slightly in lieu of a wave.

He’s never sure when he’s going to see someone again these days.

He turns the opposite direction and starts walking, pulling his jacket up and hunching down. The wind has picked up and he’s already cold as it is with the lack of sleep.

He makes it about twenty steps before he remembers to check his phone.

His heart pounds as he watches the screen light up.

Two new messages.

Fuck you, the first one starts out, you can’t just disappear for days on end and expect me not two bee mad. Screw you. See if I care that you’re not dead. Fuck off.

Karkat blinks a few times and  _no he’s not crying_ and opens the next one.

Sorry, no you don’t work today I picked up your shift. Glad two know you’re still alive and kicking, you should call me. Yes we’re still friends.

Fuck,  _fuck_ why were his friends so nice to him. Sollux didn’t have to send that, he could have left it at the first message and called it good and Karkat wouldn’t have even been able to hold it against him because it’s what he deserves,  _fuck_.

He rubs frantically at his face ( _shut up stop looking_ ) and makes his way to his car.

He does not spend the next five minutes bawling like a child in the drivers seat- he just has something in his eye.

He calls Sollux.

Two rings and he picks up.

_“Hello?”_

Karkat takes a deep breath and prepares to say something (he really does) but nothing comes out and he’s sitting here with his (best?) friend on the other line trying to think of something to say but nothing is coming to mind. Maybe he should apologize again? Ask ‘what’s up’? No that’s stupid.  _Fuck_ he never knows what ‘level’ their friendship is at and what is an appropriate topic after- how long has it even been? A week? Two? Fuck, has it been two weeks? No wonder Sollux is pissed. Karkat would be to. Sollux should just dump his sorry ass, let him get fired and be forced to face the consequences because that’s what he deserves, that’s what he gets for being a-

_“-at? Karkat. KK? There’s a thing known as caller ID and I happen to have it, so I know it’s you. Are you spacing out again? You’ve been doing that a lot lately, you might wanna get it checked out.”_

His lisp is way better than it used to be but still sounds pretty bad over the phone. Karkat clears his throat.

“Sorry. Hey.”

He can practically  _hear_ Sollux rolling his eyes.  _”’Hey’ he says. Like he hasn’t been MIA for half a month. What were you even doing?”_

Karkat can’t answer. His mouth is dry and he tries swallowing. He honestly doesn’t know where he’s been. Mostly lurking at home in the dark rationing out his food like an apocalypse survivor- but there were times that he’d wake up on the street with something sticky on his hands (usually blood) and covered in mud and dark stains and other times he’d wake up at home (but not where he’d fallen asleep) and his clothes would be dirty and he would be so so sore for no reason and he hadn’t even done anything that day and-

" _Nevermind. You were probably just at the apartment weren't you? Whatever, where are you?”_

Karkat has to take a few deep breaths and focus on the conversation at hand. “School.”

_“Cool, I’m in the tech department. You in the parking lot?”_

Fuck fuck  _fuck_ he can’t do this. He  _can’t_ , not right now. His heart beats faster and faster and all he does is let out a pathetic “uh.”

_“Don’t leave, kay? I’m almost there- yeah I can see your car.”_

“Sollux,” he finally manages, “don’t-”

But then there’s knocking at his window and he has to rub at his face again before looking up.

Sollux.

All six foot one of limbs and lisps.

His eyebrows twitch together. He looks disappointed. Fuck. “Dude, are you crying again? What is even up?” His voice is muffled through the window and it takes Karkat a few more moments to realize that the phone next to his ear is now letting out a dial tone.

Sollux walks around the car and slides into the passenger seat.

He should have locked the doors.

They sit there in silence for a long while, save Karkat’s occasional sniffing.

“So, you made it to school today.” It’s not a question, but Karkat still just makes a noncommittal motion with his shoulders.

“You look like shit.”

Fuck, he knows he does. He should have taken another shower and probably forced some food down. He shouldn’t have come in today but  _fuck_ , John-

And Sollux is shifting and pulling Karkat towards him and what?

They’re hugging.

And it’s terrible and awkward and sort of warm.

“This is gay.” he mumbles.

“ _You’re_ gay.”

Karkat hics again.

Fuck, no. Stop that, stupid useless-

“KK. Talk to me. I can’t help if you don’t talk to me.”

He actually manages out a weak, “nothing’s wrong.” Sollux snorts.

“Like hell nothing’s wrong. You don’t just disappear for weeks on end under the excuse of ‘being sick’ and turn up worse than when you left. I’m not stupid, what’s happening?”

Karkat shrugs (but Sollux still doesn’t let go, there goes that plan) “I don’t know.”

And he doesn’t and that’s what scares him the most.

He doesn’t know what’s happening, or why, or how.

He doesn’t know how to make it stop.

And if it doesn’t stop soon Karkat isn’t quite sure he’ll last much longer.

If this keeps going on, whatever  _this_ is, Karkat might be the one laying in a puddle of his own blood.


End file.
